


Pidge Enchanted

by TheyCallMetheTailor



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Assassination, Elf Prince!Lance, Elf!Shiro, F/M, Gen, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, human!Pidge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-12-20 20:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11928462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyCallMetheTailor/pseuds/TheyCallMetheTailor
Summary: She had a job to do. If she wanted her brother to live, she wouldn’t fail. She needed to stop waiting pointlessly and do what she came here for. Taking one last, unsteady breath, she narrowed her eyes and steeled her pounding heart. She would do it. Swiftly and irrevocably. Before her, Prince Lance’s chest rose. His last breath.A life for a life, they’d told her, and what choice did she have but to agree?She closed her eyes and let the arrow fly.---In which Pidge is coerced into assassinating the Elf Prince Lance in exchange for her brother's life and she fails miserably. Things only get worse from there.





	1. Chapter 1

_Breath deeply,_ her father’s voice echoed calmly, _You can’t hunt if you’re more scared than the deer.”_

 

Pidge tried, just as her father had taught her. In and out. Slowly. She wondered if maybe she was doing it wrong, though, because it didn’t seem to slow her rapidly beating heart. Her breath came shaky and ragged, white puffs of air escaping her mouth. No matter what, though, she held her crossbow ready, never letting her target out of her sight.

 

There, just past the trees, lounging next to the river in the gray gloom of the late fall sky was her target: the prince. He was laying flat above a pile of leaves, wrapped in thick navy coat lined with gold embroidery. Pidge felt a stab of bitter jealousy at the finely-clothed prince’s blissful expression, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. It wasn’t fair, she thought bitterly. _He_ should have the weight of the kingdom on his privileged shoulders. Why should it fall on her, a titleless commoner, to have the fate of the entire kingdom in her hands? Perhaps the ones who’d sent her were right, she thought as she observed him, perhaps his ascension really would be their downfall. She shook her head against the unhelpful train of thought.

 

She had a job to do. If she wanted her brother to live, she wouldn’t fail. She needed to stop waiting pointlessly and do what she came here for. Taking one last, unsteady breath, she narrowed her eyes and steeled her pounding heart. She _would_ do it. Swiftly and irrevocably. Before her, Prince Lance’s chest rose. His last breath.

 

A life for a life, they’d told her, and what choice did she have but to agree?

 

She closed her eyes and let the arrow fly.

 

There was a harsh hiss of air and a fleshy _thunk_ from the prince’s direction, and Pridge felt her stomach heave even as she felt relief that the job was done. The relief was short lived, however, because the sound of the arrow hitting home was followed by a loud outburst from the prince. The very much _alive_ and _not dead_ prince, it seemed. Those being two mutually exclusive things.

 

Dear gods, she’d missed.

 

“Holy mother-!” the prince let out in a choked cry, pain lacing his voice as he let out a stream of curses. Pidge’s eyes flung open and she felt her eyes widen as the prince let out a particularly colorful invective. She’d heard the like before, but never would’ve expected it from the refined mouth of royalty.

 

The elf prince was crawling gracelessly from the river’s shore, one leg dragging limply behind him. He must’ve been going for the pack she’d seen him leave behind the tree line. Pidge’s stomach flipped at the vicious sight of an arrow protruding from his thigh. The arrow _she_ had put there. Blood dripped from the wound, leaving a stark red trail in the snow behind him.

 

It was one thing to kill in defense of her own life, but this...

 

Pidge’s whole body trembled, numb fingers reaching for her quiver and missing the taut bowstring twice before she finally had the arrow at the ready.  Bile rose in her throat as she set off toward the prince on weak legs. Why did she have to miss? The killing was bad enough. But this was worse. Much worse.

 

Pidge came upon the prince just as he pulled a glowing stone from his pack. He froze at the sight of her, eyes wide with fear and pain, and Pidge felt her own body go stiff. She felt bespelled, though she’d experienced the real thing enough to know she wasn’t. Crouched there, bleeding in the snow, the elf prince looked nothing like what she’d observed at a distance. His striking blue eyes set against dark but now bloodless skin made Pidge’s chest uncomfortably tight. It was stupid, she knew. His sharply pointed ears and angular features were a dead giveaway that he was nothing like her own people, but she’d never expected him to look so... _human._

 

 _Shoot him!_ She urged herself, _Do you want your brother to die!?_

 

But her hands wouldn’t comply.

 

In her moment of indecision, the prince took action. “Shiro!” He shouted, and the already glowing stone pulsed with energy that made Pidge’s bones vibrate. Her eyes widened at the sheer magnitude of the prince’s power even before she realized what he was doing. Either he was trying to frighten her with his magical strength, or he was just that awful at control. “Ugh, fine! _Captain_ Shiro!” The prince shouted again. This time, along with the pulse of power was an answering glow from the stone. _A summoning stone,_ Pidge realized, heart like lead in her stomach.

 

She was momentarily blinded by the bright flash of elf magic, then, as she blinked spots away from her eyes, she saw a man standing where the stone had been. He was shorter than the prince but still tall and broad-shouldered. There was a shock of white in his dark hair. He was also dressed in the regalia of the King’s Guard. His eyes widened at the sight of his prince. “Prince Lance!”

 

Pidge’s grip tightened on her bow and she pulled the bowstring back. The man turned abruptly at the sound and his eyes narrowed. Before Pidge could utter a sound, the man flung his arm at her. She was momentarily confused until a hand shaped-block of stone separated from his arm, connected by a glowing trail of elf magic, and struck her square in the chest.

 

Pidge’s small frame was flung backward until she struck a large tree behind her, the impact rattling her skull and driving the breath from her lungs. Her bow and arrow clattered uselessly to the forest floor several feet below. The quiver and its arrows were crushed behind her, digging painfully into her back. The stone hand pinned her against the tree, immobile and terrified. She struggled for air, her abused chest protesting painfully. _Breath deeply_. She tried to remind herself, but it was as if she were being smothered by a pillow, her vision darkening at the edges.

 

She couldn’t breath. She was going to suffocate.

 

“You’re killing him!” Came a now familiar voice, and even in her panicked state, Pidge wondered why it sounded as though the prince were against that outcome, given the circumstances.

 

“”I’m not,” came a calmer, deeper voice, “She just-”

 

“Put her down!”

 

Pidge felt herself being lowered to the ground by the large stone hand just as she was able to suck in a half breath of air. It was a stubborn pull and she fought for every moment, but finally, _finally_ , she tasted sweet life in her lungs. She was eventually settled at the base of the tree, still restrained, but infinitely more comfortable.

 

“Like I was saying, she just needed to get her breath back. Either way, you need to let me look at that,” the calmer voice said in a tone that brooked no argument. Pidge looked up blearily and saw that it was the person the prince had summoned, Captain Shiro. She was so relieved at being able to breath again, that it took her a moment to process his words, then she clenched her jaw.

 

Pidge took his moment of distraction to attempt her escape. She struggled against her bonds, but the the grip was like, well, _stone_. Her whole upper body was pinned, her legs scrabbling uselessly in the rain-soaked mud. The captain didn’t even seem phased by her attempts, and Pidge wanted to sob in frustration. Now that she’d failed miserably, her brother was in more danger than ever. Outwardly, she just glared.

 

The captain bent down next to the prince, who’d turned to stare at the ground at this side, patently ignoring his injured leg. “I’m sure it’s not too bad.” He said. Pidge raised her eyebrows at that. This response was a remarkable about face from the dramatic cursing she’d witnessed before the captain had shown up. The captain helped the prince move over to lie on a log and out of the mud, and Pidge saw he was shivering despite his fine coat.

 

With a guilty, almost masochistic fascination, Pidge’s gaze was drawn to the prince’s wound. Her throat burned with bile again at the sight. No matter what the prince said, ‘not too bad’ was not an apt description. From the way his mouth tightened and his brows furrowed, the captain didn’t think it was a good assessment either. He quickly tore a strip of cloth from his tunic and began wrapping it around the prince’s wound, leaving the arrow inside.

 

Pidge watched as the prince’s whole body went rigid and his breaths became quick and pained.

 

“We need to get back to the castle,” Captain Shiro said. And although the prince’s eyes stayed fixed on the forest floor below, Pidge could see his face had become set in a deep grimace. The prince’s eyes slid sideways, and Pidge’s eyes momentarily met his. Pidge quickly looked back toward the captain.

 

The captain took in their surroundings, never loosening his grip on Pidge. “Do you have your return stone with you?”

 

“I, um…” the prince’s voice was strained, “Well, you see I was, ah. What I mean is....no.”

 

The captain didn’t appear surprised by his prince’s lapse in judgement, although Pidge knew return stones to be worth a king’s ransom. The dark haired man only grew more grim. “Well it’s a good thing you called me,” he said, “We’ll have to use just mine.”

 

The prince’s eyes grew wide at that, “Shiro, that’s not-” A look from this captain silenced the prince, who suddenly shivered more violently than before.

 

“Prince Lance!” The captain bent back down to grip the prince’s hand. A sudden, horrible thought occurred to Pidge, and it felt like the breath had been stolen from her all over again. Had she doomed the prince to a slow painful death rather than the swift one she’d intended? After a moment, the prince’s shivering abated, though he looked weakened by the onslaught of chills.

 

“Just cold…” the prince murmured, “Can we-” he let out a hiss of pain, “-can we go now?" He was definitely losing strength, Pidge realized. She was supposed to be on her way back to her brother right now. How had things turned out so horribly so quickly?

 

“Yes,” the captain said, “And _you’re_ coming with us.” The last was directed at Pidge, who felt herself pulled over to the captain and the prince. The prince lifted a shaking hand to grip the captain’s wrist.

 

“We can’t - ngh - we can’t let on that we know.” the prince said.

 

Both the captain and Pidge looked down at him in confusion.

 

The prince grew impatient. “Take us...to my private quarters. This is...secret. Say…hunting accident…something...”

 

The captain glanced at Pidge, a troubled expression on his face, “What about her?”

 

“Shiro, _please._ ” the prince sounded tired and at his limit, and the captain’s face darkened, but he leaned forward.

 

“I’ll do has you say, Your Highness,” the captain said quietly, and his face showed he didn’t think it was a good idea, but wasn’t about to tax the prince any further by arguing the point. “Rest easy.” The prince seemed to relax at that, though only slightly, lines of his face still hard with pain.

 

The captain pulled out what must’ve been the return stone from an inner pocket, gripped Pidge and the prince tightly, then spoke the words of returning.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

The return stone deposited them without ceremony to their intended destination. Pidge landed face first onto one of the lushest, most resplendent, and uncomfortably soft beds she had ever landed in. Not that she was in the habit of  _ landing  _ in beds. She scrambled to right herself and saw the prince gripping his injured leg. He let out another stream of curses that belied his alleged weakness from before. “ _ Holy- _ ! That hurt!” the Prince said, and Pidge wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard a distinctive whine in his voice. Captain Shiro, apparently none the worse for their graceless landing, turned to the elf prince’s side and began examining his wound.

 

The prince seemed to become conscious of the presence of others and his complaints abruptly quieted. His chin turned up even as his cheeks reddened. Even that wasn’t enough to hide the palled hue and sheen of sweat on his brow. Captain Shiro raised an eyebrow, but remained professional.

 

His face was still pinched with worry, though. “Your Highness, this needs to be looked at by a physician.”

 

The prince waved a dismissive hand, though the gesture looked weak to Pidge, who was slowly inching off the bed, “Yeah, yeah. Send for Coran.”

 

“Coran? You mean Lord Coran Smythe?” the captain replied, sounding perplexed, “He’s not a court physician.”

 

“Cap, he’s like a bajillion years old, remember?” the Prince said with another weak wave of his hand, then let it fall to his side, “He was a battle physician back in the War. And we can trust him.”

 

Pidge swallowed at the mention of the War. It’d ended a century ago -  _ generations  _ ago, for humans - but many elves were alive who’d lived through it, including, apparently, this Coran guy. What was a long ago history lesson for her people was a vivid memory for some of the elves. Attempted murder of the elf prince by a human would most definitely not be forgotten soon. She slipped off the bed just as the captain stood.

 

“Fine,” he said to the prince. 

 

The prince gave a half-hearted mock salute as his eyes slid shut, and the Captain turned away. Pidge thought he was turning to leave, herself having been forgotten amidst the captain’s concern for his prince, but the captain reached out a hand to her again, and she had no time to escape before she was gripped bodily in his magical stone arm again. 

 

She struggled furiously against the grip, but only succeeded in giving herself whiplash with her wild flailing. “Let me go!” She growled as she strained against her captor. 

 

The captain’s eyes were narrowed, and he opened his mouth to say something, but then he paused, peering at her with an increasingly troubled expression. “You’re young, even for a human, aren’t you?” He set her down, taking out a chord from his belt to begin tying her to a heavy wooden chair in a corner of the room. 

 

“I’m old enough,” she said evasively, struggling even though she knew it was pointless against this elf’s magical arm. She wasn’t  _ that _ young. Plenty old enough to be considered a legal adult and punishable as one under human law.  She knew she looked young for her age though, if the irritatingly inane comments of her clients was anything to go by. 

 

“The Separatists have no shame, do they?” The captain made a disgusted sound, but it didn’t seem like it was directed at her. 

 

“You're only just now realizing that?” the prince piped up indignantly, apparently too weak to sit up but not too weak to talk, “All the other attempts haven’t been enough to convince you?” .

 

“You apparently don’t have any shame either, my prince,” the captain said pointedly, and Pidge had the sense he was alluding to some oft-discussed grievance from how weary he sounded. He sighed, rubbing his face with his non magical arm and suddenly looking decades older. “I’ll be back with the physician.  _ Stay here _ .”

 

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere,” the prince said, not sounding the least bit repentant. 

 

The captain shook his head as he strode over to the double doors adjacent to the prince’s bed. The doors were heavy and formidable looking, even with the intricate carvings Pidge couldn’t quite make out from her vantage point on the opposite wall. The captain paused just before he turned the delicate silver handle, then turned to Pidge, “Don’t try anything while I’m gone,” his voice was hard, but it didn’t have any of the cold venom it’d held for her before he’d seen how young she appeared. 

 

“She won’t try to kill me again, if that’s what you worried about,” the prince said flippantly. 

 

Captain Shiro turned slowly back to the prince, eyes narrowing suspiciously, “Your Highness, you didn’t-?”

 

The prince paused, and PIdge couldn’t see his face, but she heard his hesitation when he responded. “I, um...I might’ve possibly been doing my, uh, you know, my thing...and I might’ve accidentally read her,” the prince said, “She didn’t have any ill intent,” he continued in a rush, “Just fear. So yeah, she’s...cool....” the prince trailed off. Pidge furrowed her brows, muscles tightening. His ‘thing?” He’d “read” her? What did that mean? Whatever it was must not be that great, because she’d shot him with an arrow, and if that wasn’t ill intent, she wasn’t sure what was.

 

The captain’s face hovered between wide-eyed shock and mouth-twitching anger. 

 

“Look, do you think you could get a move on?” the prince said, neatly forestalling whatever the captain might’ve said, though his discomfort seemed genuine, “This kinda hurts.” 

 

The captain started, looking slightly guilty at his delay. “Certainly, Your Highness. My apologies.” he said stiffly, his voice holding promise that this wouldn’t be the last of this, then strode out the door. 

 

A sigh escaped the prince in a great  _ woosh _ as soon as the door clicked shut behind his captain, “That guy is way too high strung.” 

 

Pidge didn’t know what she was supposed to say to that, so she kept her mouth shut. 

 

“Look, I’m normally a better host to ladies in my bedchamber,” the prince said going for a light tone, but his words were halting and stilted with pain and exhaustion, “But I think I’m going take a nap now.’

 

If he didn’t sound so pathetic, and she didn’t know it was her fault he sounded like that, Pidge might’ve given him a biting retort. As it was, she just shrugged. “Uh. Sure.”

 

Within minutes, the only sound was the prince’s soft breaths in the claustrophobic room. Every few seconds, though, his breaths hitched, and Pidge could tell his nap was fitful at best. It took her an embarrassingly long time to realize she needed to make an escape attempt now. Once the captain’s focus was no longer on seeing to the prince’s injury, he’d deal with her. And no matter what the prince said on her behalf - and she didn’t trust him not to come to his senses and change his mind about her - the punishment for her crime was permanent and indisputable. She was just glad the captain seemed too worried about his prince to search her before he’d left.

 

She tested the chord the captain had used to tie her to the chair. It was some kind magically reinforced rope, and even her rune-engraved ring for cutting didn’t seem to have an effect on it. She frowned.. She’d designed the ring herself and paid good money for a clanless elf to imbue it with magic. Whoever had designed the rope had to have placed a good counter rune on it to foil her work.

 

After all, it was her specialty in magical products for humans that had gotten her into this mess in the first place. Time and time again, she’d been able to successfully counter and defeat elf magic with her handiwork despite being human and, therefore, magicless. Most of the time, it was just a matter of taking advantage of elves’ tendency to take their magic - and therefore, their superiority over humans - for granted. 

 

She considered for a moment. This rope had clearly been crafted with the anticipation of a magical counter in mind. She felt a familiar thrill at the prospect of this new challenge that she quickly squashed. She needed to focus if she wanted to survive this. She only had four runic rings on her fingers at the moment, and had to make the best of them. 

 

The counter imbued in the rope would need to be something that protected against being cut at least, but was it protected against that specifically, or destruction in general? A more general counter would take more power, but be less effective against specifics. She couldn’t use her unlocking rune, since her binding was just an expertly tied knot. She paused, thinking. 

 

It was a long shot, and would sap the last of the power in her retracing ring, but she couldn’t think of anything better to use it for right then. She normally used it to track the location of specific targets with their personal items, but with some skilled directing on her part, it just might work. 

 

She quickly traced the indent of the rune on the ring of her pinky finger, shoving her will into it as quickly and decisively as possible. She would’ve crowed with delight when she felt the ropes slowly loosening at her behest, retracing their paths to before they’d been tied. She could hardly believe it’d worked. 

 

She yanked her hands out of her binding and leaped to her feet. The hope budding in her chest wilted when, just as she approached it, the door flew open. She jumped back to avoid being smacked in the face and promptly tripped over the chord, which had started retracing its path back to its owner behind her. She landed hard on her backside, looking up at the looming figure of the captain and an elven noble at his side. 

 

The prince let out a gasp behind her, and she glanced back to see he’d sat up. He grimaced, face paling. “Oh, it’s just you,” he said, then fell back. 

 

The captain took one look at her, then the floating chords next to her, then made quick work of recapturing and securing her for the third time that day. He was careful to remove all her rings this time. Pidge’s insides twisted at the realization that she was new well and truly screwed. 

 

The elven noble who’d entered with Captain Shiro rushed over to the prince’s side. He was tall, with bright red hair and a mustache, which surprised Pidge. Mustaches had gone out of fashion with elven nobles a long time ago. It was that, coupled with the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth that told Pidge this had to be pretty old, even by elven standards. “Your Highness,” he said, face crinkling with concern, “Please remain still while I examine you.” 

 

The prince murmured something noncommittal, but remained still. Pidge swallowed. Whatever vestiges of energy the prince had been pulling from before had finally been sapped. She had a perfect view of the older elf’s face as he took in the elf prince’s weakened state and the arrow protruding from his leg. His eyes widened and his face paled.

 

“Captain Shiro,” he said, “This is...quite a bit worse than a ‘little training accident.’”

 

The captain looked uncomfortable, breaking eye contact momentarily with the older elf before he said, “I apologize, Lord Smythe, but I needed you here with minimal disruption. The prince has asked that this be kept discreet.” The captain’s tone betrayed just how wise he thought that was. 

 

The red haired elf ran a hand through his hair, clearly about as happy about the state of affairs as the captain was, but unwilling to defy the orders of the prince. “Okay, not to worry,” the elf said, affecting confidence, “I’ve patched up worse than this,” it wasn’t clear to Pidge who exactly he was trying to convince. “Although,” he muttered, fidgeting with his mustache, “I usually had my med kit.”

 

The captain and him exchanged brief looks, then the red haired elf’s shoulders straightened. “Nothing for it but some old fashioned unassisted healing magic, then.” The elf rubbed his hands together. “Captain, you’ll have to hold him, I need to check the damage before I can remove the arrow and knit his flesh.”

 

The captain’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but he did as he was told. Pidge squirmed uncomfortably as the captain super extended his magical arm over the prince’s chest and reached to hold his legs with his regular hand. The red haired elf bent over the prince, resting his hands gently to the left and right of the wound. She watched in fascination as the prince’s skin seemed to light up with a blue light from within, as though his muscles had become iridescent torches. 

 

The red haired elf closed his eyes, then his brows furrowed in concentration. After a few moments he looked up, the glow from his magic dying down. “The wound is quite deep, but it appears it has missed the bone, so we have that to be thankful for.” he said, “I only worry about one of his arteries that’s been nicked. If I work fast, though, we should be okay.”

 

The captain nodded, looking grim, and Pidge ignored another uncomfortable twinge of guilt. She’d only done what she had to. “On your word, Lord Smythe,” Captain Shiro said. 

 

The older elf nodded, then gripped the shaft of the arrow with one hand, keeping his other hand on the prince’s leg. “Get ready in three...two...one.”

 

The elf noble immediately began pulling at the arrow, the blue glow flashing from his left hand and seeping down through the open wound. The prince’s body went rigid, his back arching upwards from the bed, his eyes flying open. They were wild with pain and he fought against his captain’s hold while the red haired elf continued his work. It wasn’t one quick yank the way Pidge had seen done with bad teeth either. Instead, the old elf took his time, careful to avoid causing more harm with the removal of the arrow than its entry had caused. 

 

Pidge couldn’t peel her eyes away, even though the sight made her feel ill. She felt an irrational obligation to watch. She’d caused this, so she’d watch the results of her actions. Even if it killed her. 

 

Pidge was on the verge of asking the elf what the hell was taking so long when the arrowhead itself finally slipped free. It looked grotesque with the blood dripping from its tip, and Pidge had to concentrate carefully on her breathing to keep from spewing her last meal all over the prince’s plush carpet. The prince’s body went slack as the blue healing magic flared blindingly. 

 

The old elf sagged against the bed and his magic petered out. It was hard to tell underneath the blood that was left over, but Pidge would swear the prince’s wound had been closed entirely. After a few breaths, the old elf stood, a little wobbly on his feet. Even so, Pidge was impressed. It took some serious mojo to pull off even a rudimentary healing, let alone something like this. And the elf had done it without the assistance of any magic tools. 

 

“It’s been awhile since I’ve tried anything that foolhardy,” their old elf said, wiping sweat from his brow, “But I think the prince is going to be just fine now.”

 

The captain stood slowly, then held out his hand to the other elf. The red haired elf gave him a tired smile and clasped his wrist. “Thank you,” Captain Shiro said, “I know this was asking a lot.”

 

“I’m happy to do my duty,” the lord said, sounding like he actually meant it, “Make sure the prince gets plenty of rest for the next couple of days though. A healing like that relies heavily on the body’s reserves. He’ll need to conserve his strength till he recovers.”

 

The captain nodded, “I’ll be sure to do that.”

 

The other elf smiled, “Good,” then, frowning, he said, “Now, is anybody going to tell me what the blazes happened?”

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Just a little Plance fantasy au. For a friend but also kind of self indulgent.


End file.
